


Teenagers from Mars

by Nokomis



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Glee
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm Puck," he says, and the name makes her laugh and feel less self-conscious as introducing herself as Batgirl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teenagers from Mars

Steph's out patrolling, because she's _Batgirl_ now and she's got Oracle in her ear telling her where the action's at, it's not just her roaming hoping for Gotham's crime rate to even the odds of her finding someone to help, when she hears the sound of a scuffle coming from an alley.

At first she thinks it's a mugging. There's a dude with the shadow of a mohawk wearing a plain muscle shirt beating the holy hell out of someone hunched on the ground, a wallet laying on the ground near the outstretched arm of the victim.

Then she realizes that the dude on the ground is wearing a ski mask in the sweltering Gotham summer night, and that the guy doing the beating is way too pissed off. He's going to hurt someone, probably the guy he's kicking, and she swoops in and knocks him on his ass before he realizes what's happened.

"The hell?" he gasps, face red and pulling fists with bloodied knuckles up in front of him defensively, for all he's still flat on his ass on the concrete.

Steph checks on the mugger -- vitals okay, though he's going to have to stop by the hospital on the way to jail; she zip-strips him anyway -- and picks up the wallet. "This yours?"

"Give it here." The wallet is thin and ratty, made of worn-out leather, and Steph can tell already there's not much of value inside. At least, not to anyone but this guy.

She flips it open, and there's a picture of a baby inside, tucked carefully in the clear pocket meant for a driver's license. It’s clearly a larger picture that’s folded down to feature the infant, edges already worn. She's red and squishy and clearly no more than a few hours old, and the arms wrapped around her are recognizably the dude's, all muscled and thick and making the baby look all the tinier. 

The wallet is suddenly out of her hands, and the guy is standing there, holding it protectively. Steph can hear Oracle in her ear, telling her it's been called into the police, and Steph knows if she leaves this guy here - he's probably a year or two younger than her, she now realizes, for all his brash and brawn -- he's going to spend the night in a Gotham lock-up alongside his mugger.

She looks up and then she says, "Grab onto me," and the dude looks really fucking confused but he follows her lead, and then she fires her zip-line and they're zooming, up, up and there's a brief tumble and they end up on the rooftop.

She pulls him away from the ledge -- no use getting spotted by cops -- and settles down next to the roof access, leaning against the bricks and patting the spot beside her. The guy warily sits down.

"I'm Puck," he says, and the name makes her laugh and feel less self-conscious as introducing herself as Batgirl. (She still feels like she’s play-acting when she introduces herself, still feels the thrill of ‘they’re not going to believe me.’)

"Let me see your hands," she says, and pulls out some disinfectant from her utility belt. His knuckles look familiar to her, bloody and worn, and she knows in the morning it's going to hurt to curl his fingers and the bruises are going to turn the whole mess a dark, violent purple.

"I couldn't let him take it," Puck says. He is staring at her with something close to awe. "I know I'm just a small-town bully and this is _Gotham_ and I shouldn't fight fucking muggers, but... that's the only picture I have of her."

"Can't you take another?" she says without thinking, and he stiffens.

She knows _that_ feeling, too.

She changes the subject, asks if he’s hurt anywhere else, asks the things she’s supposed to ask victims, but he stays stiff, staring off in the distance.

"Her mother didn't think we could take care of her," he says quietly, brokenly, and it's so different from the boy who would fight tooth and nail for a photograph that she looks up, startled, into his eyes. "She's right, I know, but... I wanted her. I couldn't have done right by her, but I wanted her anyway."

Something old that Steph had thought healed over cracks open, and she says, "I know. It never gets better, but knowing that she's out there safe is worth it."

"You can't know that," Puck says.

"I do," she says quietly. "Trust me."

They sit in silence a few minutes, Steph holding Puck's hand in her own gloved one even though she's done administering first aid.

"I could have handled it," Puck says eventually, clearly uncomfortable with the intimacy they've managed to forge. "I mean, check out the gun show."

He pulls his hand away to flex, and Steph applauds appreciatively. "I still knocked you on your ass," she reminds him.

"Lucky shot," Puck says. "I was distracted by all the leather-clad boobs flying at my face.'

So Steph shoves him, and he laughs, and looks at her appreciatively, blatantly.

It's been a really long time for her. She should know better, knows how affairs with boys she meets in alleys go, but he’s got a pretty smile and a rockin’ bod and fuck it, Steph’s ready to live again.

She grins at him. "In town for long?"

"Thought I'd spend the summer with my dad, get out of Ohio," he says. "Things were bad there. So yeah."

"Good," she says before taking a running leap off the roof.

She knows Oracle's already got the address waiting for her.


End file.
